Aucassin and Nicolette is laid in this place. These are, I believe, but
a small portion of the claims which Beaucaire possesses to chivalrous
celebrity, and its very name is in a manner connected with knights and
ladies, tourneys and pageants. There is something in its appearance also
which does not belie these associations, although it was crowded with
farmers and market people at the time of our arrival: and those too of
the vulgar bettermost sort, which is the most hopelessly
unchivalrous.[41] The castle stands detached from the town, on as bold
and perpendicular a cliff as any romance writer could wish, and
overlooking one of the broadest and most rapid reaches of the Rhone; an
extensive green[42] meadow planted with trees, and large enough for a
tournament on the most extensive scale, or another Champ du Drap d'Or,
divides the steep side of this rock from the river; and on the land side
it is backed by another cliff garnished with as many windmills as Don
Quixote himself could have desired. We crossed the Rhone on a bridge of
boats to a long narrow island, from whence the view on both sides is
striking. Beaucaire, with the accompaniments I have just described, and
Tarascon, flanked by the large ancient castle of the counts of Provence,
front each other on the opposite banks of the Rhone, which rushes and
thunders on both sides of the isle, making the cables by which the
floating bridge is lashed, creak most fearfully every moment.[43] From
this point I made a drawing of Tarascon in defiance of a violent wind,
which forced me to place my paper on the lee side of a stranded boat,
and to sketch in the attitude of a plasterer white-washing a ceiling.
Another bridge of boats conducted us to Tarascon;[44] where we walked
out while the horses were baiting, the whole inn being in the same
confusion from market people as Beaucaire itself, and not seeming of the
most comfortable description. Being driven by a heavy scud of rain into
a shoemaker's shop, we found a civil and intelligent guide in his son,
from whom, however, we could not ascertain that there was any thing
worthy of notice in this populous place, except the castle. We passed
the Maison de Charite, in front of which is a new cross lately erected
by the Mission, on the scale of that at Avignon, and profusely gilt and
ornamented. The same agency also has lately re-established an Ursuline
convent of fifty-two nuns in this place. The cathedral is old and mean,
and apparently under no very strict regulations, for an old woman was
selling cakes in the aisle close to one of the chapels. We went into a
vault beneath to see a marble statue of St. Martha, which has merit in
itself, and by the light of a single wax candle, had a striking effect:
the great admiration, however, in which it is held here may chiefly
arise from an opinion of its miraculous powers. "Elle devenoit invisible
pendant la Revolution," whispered our young Crispin.--"Oui, elle etoit
cachee, voila ce que tu veux dire, mon petit--." "Eh! non, pardon,
Messieurs, elle se cacha; mais il y a trois ans qu'elle se montre
encore," replied the little fellow, with the most confident gravity. I
trust that this monstrous fiction did not originate in the Ursuline
convent which he mentioned; and that the fifty-two good ladies employ
their time in more charitable and useful actions than in filling the
heads of poor children with stories so hurtful to the real interests of
religion. However credulous our young guide was, he was not mercenary,
being with difficulty persuaded to accept a franc or two for what he
styled the pleasure of having conducted us. We next visited the castle
of Tarascon, now used as the public prison, and in which 1500 English
were confined during the war. The enormous height and massiveness of
its walls, which overtop the weather-cock of the cathedral, and the
smallness of its few windows, qualify it well for this purpose; and a
greater appearance of strength and solidity is given by the solid rock
in which its foundations are embedded, and which in some places is
shaped into wall and moat. We crossed a drawbridge into a court flanked
by four round towers, and having a square keep in its centre. On the top
of one of these towers is an esplanade, from whence the view of the
course of the Rhone, and the great plain of Arles, is fine: the latter
town, which is about nine miles distant, was seen distinctly. We were
rather disappointed by the inside of the castle, which seemed chiefly to
consist of small mean rooms: perhaps the baronial hall might be the
dormitory of the prisoners, and not in a presentable state; but we saw
nothing which recalled any idea of feudal magnificence. The same
description which serves for the tower of Westburn-flat, in the Black
Dwarf, allowing for the difference of size and finish, would exactly
suit the cubical shape and high blind walls of this castle, which
probably was intended to serve similar purposes in the days of club law.
Its durability is not so remarkable as the fresh colour and sharpness of
every part of the carving, and it might pass for a modern gothic edifice
of twenty years standing, but for the solidity and frowning grandeur
which characterise it. The air of Provence appears more clear and dry
than even that of Italy, and to be more favourable to the preservation
of old buildings. Its clearness certainly is remarkable, particularly in
diminishing the effect of distance; and on Monday night, at Montpelier,
I recollect that we could plainly discover with the naked eye the stars
of the milky way, which are commonly imperceptible without a glass. I
cannot say that our route from Tarascon to St. Remy was well calculated
to show the climate of Provence in this light. The whole eleven miles
were performed in almost a perpetual storm of rain and wind, which
prevented our seeing much of the rich plain we were traversing. What we
could see, however, was pleasing: every inch teemed with olives, vines,
mulberries, corn, onions, and lucerne. We remarked many sheep sheared in
a comical manner, with two or three tufts, like pincushions, running
down the centre of their backs, and painted red. Circumstances like
these, though trivial, are or ought to be pleasing, as they indicate
that something like comfort or leisure exists, and that the farmer's
business is partly become an amusement. A needy peasant, pinched by high
rents or bad seasons, would have but little inclination to ornament his
favourite wether in this absurd manner; and though Forsyth's remark is
very true, that a peasant never attempts to become fine but he is
hideous, such hideous attempts[45] are grateful to the mind's eye from
the cheerfulness and play of mind which they indicate. Within a little
distance of St. Remy the storm cleared sufficiently to enable us to
discern the line of hills to the right, the foot of which we were
skirting, and which border the great plain of Avignon to the south.
There is something very singular in the outline of these rocks, which
are a miniature resemblance of the wild mountains near Valence, but more
savage and fantastic, presenting the appearance of the sea turned to
stone in its wildest state of commotion, or in the powerful words of
Manfred,
"The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam
Frozen in a moment; a dead whirlpool's image."
[Footnote 41: Vide Cooke's Views.]
[Footnote 42: The celebrated fair of Beaucaire, which may be almost
called the carnival of the Mediterranean, is held in this meadow
yearly.]
[Footnote 43: Vide Cooke's Views.]
[Footnote 44: For an account of the Tarasque, or fabulous dragon, which
infested the country, and the ceremonies commemorative of it, see Miss
Plumptre's tour. The name of Tarascon, she says, is derived from this
animal.]
[Footnote 45: I do not except even John Bull's favourite yew peacocks
and dragons, at least when they decorate the garden of a poor man.]
At the foot of one of these barren gray rocks, which, from its shape and
perforation, exactly resembles the barbacan and gate of a castle, St.
Remy is situated. The Hotel de la Graille, where we took up our abode
for the night, was as comfortable as most French inns, excepting those
in the large towns: and though the _gros chien de menage_, for whose
company we always stipulated, was perfectly agreeable, and of a gigantic
size, yet he was by no means, as is frequently the case, the only
civilized person in the house. This _gros chien du menage_, be it known,
is a person of great responsibility in a Provencal inn, as well as of
formidable strength and size, and is entrusted for the night with the
care of the remise, and all the live and dead stock, horses, carriages,
and waggons, which it contains; and a more effectual guard cannot well
be: his manners during the day are very mild and gentleman-like, as if
he acted as master of the ceremonies; and he generally steals in at
supper-time, as if to inform you that all is safe, and to claim a pat of
your hand, and a pairing of your fricandeau in acknowledgment of his
professional care. The greasy landlord will stand staring at his kitchen
door, the landlady will not be very attentive to your accommodation when
you are once safely housed, and the dirty, bare-legged fille will poison
you with steams of garlic; but the _gros chien_ will always make amends
to a genuine lover of dogs.
May 21.--We were tempted by a beautiful morning to rise somewhat before
four o'clock, in order to visit the Roman ruins near this place, before
our departure for Orgon. A walk of ten minutes conducted us up a gentle
terrace on which they were situated, and which rises between the town
and the fantastic hills we had remarked the day before. Having heard but
little of these classical remains, we were most agreeably surprised to
find them in such perfect preservation, and so beautiful in themselves.
They consist of a mausoleum and an arch, which stand within a few yards
of each other, and appear to have formed the principal objects in a
public square or place; the area of which is evidently marked out by a
row of solid stone seats, well adapted for the accommodation of
gazers[46] at these beautiful gems. The arch has suffered the most decay
of the two: or rather, it most exhibits the effects of violence; for the
unmutilated parts are as sharp and bold as if fresh from the hand of the
sculptor. The human figures on each side have suffered the most, either
perhaps from some party commotion of past ages, or the same wanton
propensity which leads man to disfigure his fellow-creature's image in
preference to any other work of art; and to which we owe the demolition
of Andre and Washington's heads in Westminster Abbey. The fretted
compartments in the inside, and the border which surrounds the bend of
the arch, are in the highest preservation. The latter represents
clusters of grapes, olives, figs, and pomegranates with the accuracy of
a miniature, and in a free and natural style. One of the pomegranates
was represented as ripe and cracking, and every seed distinctly
expressed. The mausoleum is, I should venture to say, a building
perfectly unique in its way, as a remnant of antiquity; and therefore
more difficult to describe by a recurrence to any known work of art. I
cannot better, however, describe its effect on the mind than by saying,
that it ought to be removed to Pompeii in company with the arch. It is
certainly superior, as a work of art, to any thing yet discovered in
that singular place; while it possesses the same indescribable domestic
character which seems to bring you back to the business and bosoms of
the ancients, in a manner which nothing at Rome can do. As far as I
could judge by the eye, it is from forty to fifty feet in height. An
open circular lanthorn of ten Corinthian pillars, surmounted by a
conical roof of stone, and containing two standing figures, rests on a
square base, presenting an open arch on each side, which is in its turn
supported by a solid pedestal, exhibiting on each of its four sides a
bas relief corresponding to the respective arch. There is great spirit
and fine grouping in the bas reliefs, which represent battles of cavalry
and infantry. The standing figures before-mentioned, to whose honour the
mausoleum may be supposed to have been erected, are in the civil garb:
and there is an ease and repose in their attitudes, corresponding with
the grave, calm expression of the heads, of which necessary appendage
the merciless French Itineraire has guillotined them without warrant.
The colour of the freestone of which it is built is as fresh as that of
the castle of Tarascon. The building is constructed with a thorough
knowledge of what the human eye requires, tapering and becoming more
light towards its conical top. It is also of size sufficient for all
purposes of effect, though not too large for a private monument. The
situation in which these relics stand is sufficient to add beauty to
objects of less merit. They are placed, as I mentioned, on a cultivated
rising ground, at the foot of the wild gray rocks which ran parallel to
the former day's route, and which assume from this spot a more
castellated appearance than when viewed from the road. On the other side
a fine and boundless view opens into the great plain of Avignon and the
Rhone, almost perplexing to the eye by its variety and number of
objects: in which we distinguished Avignon itself, and Mont Ventou many
leagues behind it, rising in height apparently undiminished, with light
hazy clouds sailing along its middle, and backed by the wild Dauphine
mountains, near Chateau Grignan. We could also distinguish Beaucaire,
Tarascon, and a large part of the former day's route, to the extreme
left; and the right opened into various vistas of the hilly country
which we had to cross in our road to Marseilles. The whole scene was
lighted up and perfumed by the effects of the shower of rain which had
fallen in the night, and without which a summer landscape in this
country is a dusty mass oppressive to the eyes. The thyme and lavender
on which we sat, and the mulberries and standard peaches which shaded
us, seemed, as well as the vineyards, to be actually growing; and the
catching lights were thrown in such a manner as to make every distant
object successively distinct. After a couple of hours survey, we took
leave of the ancient Glanum Livii, convinced that we had as yet seen
nothing more perfect in its way than their tout ensemble, when combined
with the surrounding scenery.
[Footnote 46: Vide Cooke's Views.]
To Orgon twelve miles: winding still round the base of the cluster of
rocks which form the southern barrier of the vale of Avignon, and which
assumed every variety of whimsical shape during our morning's route. At
about a mile and a half from the conclusion of our stage, we joined the
high road from Avignon to Marseilles, which renders the Hotel de la
Poste at Orgon, a good and well-accustomed inn. While we were at
breakfast, a Soeur de la Charite called on us to beg for an hospital
newly established, and in truth her request was but reasonable, for the
town seems poor enough, and unequal to the maintenance of such an
establishment. Several of the houses are well built, but wear a decayed
appearance, as if they had seen much better days. Orgon still deserves
notice from its beautiful situation, and from its having been the place
where Buonaparte met with so narrow an escape from the fury of the
inhabitants during his journey to Elba. "Vous allez sans doute voir la
Pierre Percee," said every body at the inn, whom we interrogated as to
what was best worth seeing in the compass of an hour's walk. To the
Pierre Percee we went accordingly, and found it nothing but a common
tunnel cut in a neighbouring rock, to draw off the waters of the Durance
when swoln with avalanches, from the vale of Avignon, and supply a
canal communicating with the Etang de Berre.[47] The summit of the rock
affords by far the best view of Orgon, and one which seems expressly
constructed for the purposes of landscape: nothing can group better
together than an old ruined castle just above it, and a dilapidated
convent on the summit of the hill, standing out in bold relief from the
narrow vale of the Durance, up which we traced the course of our next
stage; and the variety of exotic dwarf shrubs, which grew on the cliff
where we were standing, gave great richness to the foreground. These,
and the hedges of cypress and cane, which we occasionally saw, began to
give an Italian character to this part of France.
[Footnote 47: Vide Cooke's Views.]
The adjoining part of the vale of the Durance is called the district of
the Cheval Blanc, and, like its namesake, the vale of White Horse in
Berks, is celebrated for its fertility. To Lambesc twelve miles. For six
or seven miles the road follows the course of the Durance, which, to
judge from the extent of its stony shoals, must be a tremendous stream
at high water, and deserving the termagant appellations which Mad. de
Sevigne bestowed upon it. The back of the rocks of Orgon, which we
traversed during the first mile, and on which the convent stands, is
very singular, and resembling more a mass of strange petrifactions than
any regular stratum. At Senas, we saw the ruins of a handsome house
belonging to a M. de B. to whom his property has been restored since the
Revolution; but the gentleman was disgusted at the woods having been cut
down and sent to Toulon for ship-building, and resides entirely at Aix.
An English squire in M. de B.'s case would have rebuilt his ruined
mansion, and raised a belt of young forest trees in a very few years.
For some miles during this stage the face of the country was interesting
and rich in cultivation, with a ruined castle or two, which form
striking features; but on turning to the right up a long hill which led
to Lambesc, and leaving the vale of the Durance behind us, backed by its
high barrier of table-shaped mountains, the country became very
monotonous. It is on a higher level, and though tolerably fertile, is
deficient in verdure, the olive being almost the only tree met with.
Lambesc, like Orgon, which it much exceeds in size, has an air of faded
gentility and desertion, and its fine public fountains tell a tale of
better days. In this town the states of Provence were convened annually
in the reign of Louis XIV.; and it possessed also many of the privileges
of a capital in the days of the counts of Provence, but at present it is
celebrated for nothing but the growth of the best Provence oil. This is
no small distinction in the _almanac des gourmands_, as there is no
article in which it is so difficult to hit the critical taste of a
Provencal. I have seen them often make hideous faces at the twang of oil
which a Spaniard would abuse, and an Englishman admire, for its
tastelessness. A Provencal lady, with the knowing air of a _bonne
menagere_, told us, that no traveller could meet with really good oil,
for that the ordinary sort which we ignorantly thought excellent, was
made from heaps of olives laid to ferment in order to increase the
quantity of produce. The best (which answers, I suppose, to the Cayenne
pepper sent in presents) is made by the proprietors in small quantities
for their own use, from the natural runnings of choice fresh-picked
olives, like cold drawn castor oil, and has a greenish tinge; and this
the good lady assured us was the only true thing.
No more, when ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise;
more particularly in matters relating to the palate. We walked to see
the house where the Count de Grignan resided in state, during his
official visits to Lambese: like many other dilapidated mansions in the
place, it bears the marks of fallen greatness. There is a handsome stone
gateway belonging to it, decorated with a carved coat of arms supported
by lions; but the house, like the poor Palazzo Foscari at Venice, is
tenanted only by a nest of squalid families. The Hotel du Bras d'Or is a
plain, comfortable country inn, civil and reasonable.
CHAP. X.
AIX--MARSEILLES.
MAY 22.--To Aix sixteen miles. Though the country during the first part
of the stage is hilly without any romantic character, and rather
unpromising, the difference of climate was already apparent from the
strong and brilliant colours of the very hedge flowers, of which we
observed an endless variety. After passing St. Canat, the first post,
the country improves a little, and the [48]mountain under which Aix is
situated begins to thrust its lofty head above the intervening line of
hills. In proceeding a little further, we caught a distant glimpse of
the Etang de Berre to the west, and presently distinguished Aix in a
deep vale under our feet, into which the descent is long and steep. A
cart escorted by five gens d'armes, in which we saw a priest and another
person quietly ensconced, and exposed to a burning sun, was toiling up
the hill on a very different errand from ours. We were surprised to see
a grave character in so equivocal a situation, but found on inquiry that
he had benevolently offered his assistance in escorting a woman on her
journey to Arles, where she was to be executed for a murder. The
circumstances under which it had been committed, struck us as more
atrocious than common. About seven years before, this person, in concert
with her husband, who was since dead, invited an old lady, their friend
and patroness, and godmother to one of their children, to walk and eat
grapes in their vineyard. Watching their opportunity, they cut her
throat, buried her on the spot, and possessed themselves of her
property, with which they removed from the neighbourhood of Arles, where
the murder was committed.
[Footnote 48: According to Sanson's excellent Atlas, the French part of
which was laid down from measurement, in the reign of Louis XIV., this
mountain is the Mont St. Victoire, near which Marius gained his
celebrated victory over the Cimbri. The field of battle is fixed by
history as near Aquae Sextiae.--(_Aix_.)]
Arles and its environs, it seems, are a sort of French Lancashire in
point of brutal ferocity, and are celebrated for murders as much as for
pork sausages; not that I mean to connect the two things together, as in
the well-known nursery tale.
The Hotel des Princes at Aix is justly to be praised for cleanliness
and excellent accommodations; but Madame Alary is too well aware of its
merits to lose by them. It is somewhat ridiculous to pay, in this fine
fruit country, three francs for a small coffee-saucer of marmalade, with
which we were charged as a separate item in the breakfast; and those
therefore who intend staying a couple of days at this inn, should make
their bargain first.
Mons. Gibelin, a physician residing in the Rue Italienne at Aix,
possesses, and obligingly allows to be shown, some good pictures,
including original portraits of Mad. de Sevigne and her daughter.
Finding him from home, and the house shut up, we extended our walk
further into the town, which, in point of airy streets and cleanliness,
deserves to hold a very high rank indeed among French cities. The houses
are generally stately, regular, and well built, and give you the idea
both of former and of present gentility and opulence. It is in some
degree cooled by several fine fountains, a circumstance of no small
importance at this season of the year, for the effects of the "beau
soleil de Provence" began to exceed even my recollections of Naples.
Speaking merely at hazard on the subject, I should doubt whether any
place in the south of France is better adapted for the cure of pulmonary
complaints than Aix. It stands on the side of a rising ground, facing a
delightfully well-watered and fertile valley to the south-west, and
sheltered from the piercing winds, so prevalent in Provence at some
seasons, by a mountainous barrier which rises to the north and
north-east. Its situation is thus at once sheltered, airy, and cheerful,
and does the greatest honour to the taste of King Rene[49] in selecting
it for his capital.
[Footnote 49: For an account of the curious ceremonies and processions
instituted by this monarch, see Miss Plumptre, under the heads of "Leis
Razcassetos," "Lou Juec des Diables," &c. I cannot say but that the
enumeration reminds me of the merry court of Old King Cole, with his
fiddlers three, his tailors three, and the long list of et ceteras
detailed in the well-known song.]
To Marseilles sixteen miles. At the end of a mile and a half, the road
ascends a hill to the south, marked by a clump of stone pines, which
commands the best view of Aix and its environs. The vale running up to
the right under Mont St. Victoire deserves particular mention, as
uniting the highest degree of beauty and verdure with a certain wildness
of feature; and would give a fair idea of the best parts of Italian
scenery to a person not desirous of crossing the Alps. After taking
leave of this valley, which better deserves to be called the garden of
Provence than any other district I have yet seen, the face of the
country is less pleasing, but in some places more singular and original.
The first few miles were dull enough, it is true; and to add to our
pleasure intensely hot, and destitute of any sort of shade. It was
therefore with no small satisfaction that we stopped for a few minutes
under a grove of tall old trees which overshadowed the road, with a
fountain spouting up in the midst, which completely altered the
atmosphere. No palm island in the deserts of Arabia was ever more
welcome than this cool spot, which belonged, we understood, to the
adjoining Chateau Albertas. Whoever was the planner of it, he has
discovered more true taste and gentlemanly feeling than if he had built
the finest possible entrance or lodge as a mere tribute to self-love:
and were pride alone consulted as a motive, nothing leaves so striking a
recollection on the minds of strangers, or so strongly disposes them to
inquire the name of the proprietor of a spot, as an elegant proof of
attention to their convenience, like the one in question.
Having traversed a second interval of dry parched country, we crossed
another pleasant valley, in which is situated the Chateau Simiane. This
seat, visible about a mile to the left, was the residence of Pauline de
Grignan, wife of the Marquis de Simiane; who is said to have inherited
much of the talent and liveliness of her grandmother and mother. Her
verses beginning with
"Lorsque j'etois encore cette jeune Pauline," &c.
jesting on the annoyance of a lawsuit in which she had to defend her
title to the Grignan estates, are still on record. After passing the
Chateau Simiane, the country became wild and singular in parts. We
particularly remarked a small village built round the base of one of
those castellated rocks which abound in the neighbourhood of Beaucaire,
as also a singular defile near the post-house of La Pin. The high gray
rocks which inclose this spot appear as if seared to the quick with
drought, and for some distance leave room only for the road and a narrow
riband-shaped line of rich cultivated ground of a few yards in breadth;
which is again succeeded by a small village, whose houses completely
block up the defile. From this point you creep and wind gradually to the
hill called La Viste, from which we were instructed to expect the most
celebrated view of Marseilles. It fully equals all that can be said of
it; and, though inferior to the bays of Naples and Genoa, possesses
features which strongly remind one of both. On reaching a wood of stone
pines on the summit of the hill, the bay of Marseilles bursts on you all
at once, in an immense sheet of bright blue, studded with sunny islands,
among which the Chateau d'If, a little spot fortified to the teeth, and
commanding the entrance of the inner port, is most conspicuous. On
advancing a little further, the shores of the bay are seen lengthening
themselves into a half moon, one horn of which is formed by a line of
mountains of no remarkable outline, and the other by a more lofty chain,
communicating with Mont St. Baume and Mont Victoire, and the out-post of
which is formed by a lofty and barren cape jutting into the sea at the
back of Marseilles. The town itself possesses no remarkable feature from
this point, except the fort of Notre Dame de la Garde, which crowns and
commands it at the top of a lofty hill; but its environs, which rise in
an amphitheatre from the sea to the adjoining mountains, are one
perpetual succession of white villas, vineyards, orange, lemon and
fruit-tree groves, and every thing in short which can enrich and enliven
a prospect. Too much certainly is not said by the French of this
celebrated Viste, which deserves at least a quarter of an hour's
attention; and there are one or two decent cabarets on the top of it,
the resort of the Marseillois for cool air and refreshment, where the
horses can be baited while a survey or a sketch is taken.